


Marks of Devotion

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Game, Scar Kissing, its all about the yearning!, tender and cheesy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-22 23:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “The fact that you bear the scars you got on that day so proudly just because they are scars you got from protecting me… Nothing in this world could give me more happiness than that.”“Nothing at all?”





	Marks of Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> I have always been a huge fan of lord/retainer ships so I knew I would love dimitri/dedue but I didn’t expect them to go as hard as they do... I haven’t experienced this level of investment in a lord and a retainer since elincia and lucia so, if you can’t tell, I’m over the moon. 
> 
> also, while I drew no inspiration from it, I realized after writing this fic that a segment of it quite resembles [this lovely comic](https://insertdisc5.tumblr.com/post/186964003160/) so I'm linking it because everyone should see it anyway

“Is something wrong, Your Majesty?”

The king groans, digging the heel of his palm into his eyepatch. Dedue approaches the desk, taking his liege’s wrist and gently prying it away from his face. He has been wearing ornamental eyepatches as of late—a suggestion from Annette as a way to “own his injury” and make himself seem less intimidating—, and having the jewels sewn into the eyepatch dig into his skin is something Dedue will not allow. 

“Your Majesty?” Dedue repeats, his worry increasing when the king just moves his other hand to press against his bad eye.

“Dedue,” he reprimands, his voice tired. “We are alone.”

“Oh,” Dedue says. “Dimitri?”

“Yes, Dedue?” Dimitri replies with a softer tone.

They have been over this many times before, but no matter how hard he tries, it is still difficult to think of his liege as just… Dimitri. Adjusting to the change from “Your Highness” to “Your Majesty” has already been hard after so many years of addressing him in one particular way, so trying to remember that they are on a first name basis whenever they are alone proves to be even more difficult. 

Dedue is the only one in this predicament too. His Majesty—no, Dimitri—lets his closest friends call him whatever they want. Ingrid calls him “Your Majesty”, Sylvain still can’t seem to shake off “Your Highness” and, thankfully, Felix has completely foregone his disrespectful nickname in order to call him by his name. Mercedes and Professor Byleth call him by his name as well, while Ashe and Annette address him by his title. They all call him whatever they prefer, but Dedue is the only one who gets a scolding when he uses his king’s title in private. Maybe that means he is just that special to Dimitri which truly, and selfishly, makes him incredibly happy. So he tries, even if it’s difficult, he really tries. 

“Is something wrong, Dimitri?” he asks, his voice a little strained around Dimitri’s name. It gets embarrassing to call him that whenever he thinks too much about the fact that he’s the only one to get this kind of treatment. “It looks like your eye is hurting.”

Dimitri sighs, taking his hand away from his eye and letting it drop on the desk with a loud thud. “It hurts, but I think it’s… what did Mercedes call it? Phantom pain?”

“Phantom pain?” Dedue asks, carefully lowering Dimitri’s other hand, which he was still holding onto. He then folds his arms behind his back, while Dimitri crosses them over his chest. 

“Pain that comes from body parts that are no longer there,” Dimitri explains with a shrug. “Although I have only heard the term being used for missing limbs, I believe it can apply to me when an eye I haven’t had for years starts hurting.” He pauses and gives Dedue a smile that is tired, but genuine nonetheless. “But you needn’t worry, it happens after long days or when I’m feeling stressed. It’ll go away on its own.”

“Still, Your— Dimitri.” He clears his throat, and any embarrassment he could have felt at his mistake is easily washed away by Dimitri’s small chuckle. “Is there anything I can do to alleviate that pain?”

Dimitri gives him another short laugh. He’s laughing a lot for very little lately, as if he’s trying to make up for all the time he spent only letting himself express anger and sorrow. Dedue doesn’t think his king has to make up for anything but he really cherishes the sound of his laugh, so he refrains from saying anything about it.

“I appreciate the thought, my friend,” Dimitri says, leaning back on his chair with an easy smile, “but if Mercedes didn’t have any cures for this phantom pain, then I don’t think there is much to be done. Although…” his voice drags the last syllable out, playful, and his eye narrows with mirth. “Whenever I got wounded as a child, my stepmother would always kiss it better.”

Maybe it’s the light and relaxed atmosphere in the room, maybe it’s the fact that they have both have had a long day of doing nothing but paperwork with no way to work out their restless energy, or maybe it’s just another clumsy attempt from Dedue to fulfill his liege’s request for a more casual relationship, but before Dimitri can laugh his words off or say that he’s just kidding, Dedue has already rounded the table, leaned over his king’s seat, and pressed his lips to the ornamental eyepatch covering the old wound. 

The way in which Dimitri tenses is painfully easy to notice, and Dedue immediately regrets his insolence. This is his liege, _ the king of Faerghus_, and Dedue has just done something as intimate as kiss an old scar without any permission other than what was surely a jest. And even if he _ had _ permission, he could never, should never presume to do such a thing. Dimitri is not the kind of person to punish him for something like this, but to do something so disrespectful to someone so above his station, to a cherished friend no less...

“Your Majesty,” he says, somehow out of breath, “please forgive me, I really do not know what I was thinking, I…”

The words die in his throat when gloved hands cup his cheeks and make him turn his head in order to make eye contact. Dedue wasn’t even aware that he had averted his eyes until he looks back at his liege, and his breath is stolen once again by the sight that greets him. Dimitri’s eye is impossibly wide and brighter than ever, and he looks out of breath as well. There is a rosy tinge to his cheeks that Dedue doesn't get to see often, but Dimitri doesn't look put off, or disgusted, or offended. Dedue sighs in relief at that, but his sigh is cut short by a gasp when Dimitri stands up from his seat and presses his lips against his forehead, soft and warm and gentle and unlike anything Dedue would have ever allowed himself to imagine.

“Your Majesty…” he says when the king pulls back.

“Dimitri,” Dimitri whispers, and then kisses Dedue’s chin. 

“Dimitri?” Dedue whispers as well, unable to raise his voice as Dimitri kisses his cheek. 

Another kiss, to another point of his forehead. “Yes, Dedue?” 

“What is happening?” Dedue asks, although he has just realized by himself. 

His scars. Dimitri is kissing the scars scattered over his face. He is making one loving, reverent gesture after the other, as if he finds Dedue as precious as Dedue finds Dimitri, as if he sensed the love behind Dedue’s kiss over his eye and wanted to return it twofold. As if the feelings Dedue has kept buried for so many years are reciprocated. 

Dimitri kisses his other cheek and then there is only one scar left, the one on the corner of Dedue’s lips. Dimitri’s kiss there lingers, and Dedue’s hands twitch at his sides. 

“Can I?” Dimitri asks, his breath warm against Dedue’s cheek, and although he’s not sure what Dimitri is asking permission for, Dedue swallows. 

“You did not answer my question.” 

“Because I don’t know,” the king replies, resting his head on Dedue’s shoulder and his hands on his chest. Dedue stays still but his hands twitch once more, the impulse of wrapping his arms around his liege getting stronger by the minute. “The first kiss was because I didn’t want you to feel like you were doing something wrong, but then I-I just kept going…” He pulls back to look up at Dedue, and cups his cheek with one hand. Dimitri’s gaze is soft and his blush is even darker than before but, judging by how warm he feels, Dedue must not look so different. “For five whole years, I thought that you had died for me. Then you came back bearing these new scars… I hate that you had to get hurt on my account, but I love…” A deep breath, “them. I love them. Is that wrong?” 

Dedue shakes his head and decides to throw caution to the wind. His liege is touching him so freely after all, and he knows how much Dimitri wants them to be equals, so he figures it will be fine to raise one of his arms and lay a palm flat against Dimitri’s back, right over the biggest one of the scars the king got by protecting him on the day of the tragedy. Dimitri leans into the touch, and Dedue circles his other arm around his waist, which feels surprisingly narrow when the king is out of his bulky armor. 

“The fact that you bear the scars you got on that day so proudly,” he says, pulling his liege closer to him and relishing in the way Dimitri wraps his arms around his neck, “just because they are scars you got from protecting me… Nothing in this world could give me more happiness than that.”

“Nothing at all?” Dimitri asks, getting even closer. Their chests are touching now, barely any space left between them. “I want to cherish you as much as you deserve, maybe even more. If there is anything else I can do to grant you happiness, please let me know.”

Dedue would normally say no, insist that he is perfectly happy as he is, happier than he has ever been—and that would not be a lie, especially not after hearing his king say those words to him. But this is not a normal situation, and Dimitri looks like he really wants to grant Dedue a selfish request, so he takes his hand away from Dimitri’s back and brings it up to the eyepatch, lightly tracing the lower edge of it. 

“May I?” he asks. 

Dimitri nods slowly, and Dedue lifts it. The wounded eye is closed, but it is easy to tell that the socket is empty. Dimitri never said how he lost it, so Dedue has long since assumed it was self-inflicted. He loathes the idea, but he wants to love this scar too. He wants to love everything that makes up the person that Dimitri is today, so he leans forward and gives that empty eyelid the lightest of kisses. Dimitri’s breath hitches, and when Dedue reaches up to lower the eyepatch again, Dimitri shakes his head, untying it himself and dropping it on the desk. 

“You don’t mind looking at it?” he asks, untying his hair as well so his long bangs partially cover his eye. “I know it’s not something pleasant to behold.”

“No part of you is ugly,” Dedue says firmly, and that makes Dimitri chuckle awkwardly.

“Honestly, Dedue, just what have I done to deserve you?” He raises a hand as soon as Dedue opens his mouth and chuckles again. “Actually, you don’t have to answer that. I just hope you will let me continue to give back to you. Is there anything else you want?”

Dedue knows exactly what he wants, and although he feels a little guilty for being so sure about a selfish request he should never ask of his liege, they are far past being only a king and his vassal. He pushes back the instinct to say no again and returns his hand to Dimitri’s back.

“The… scars on your back,” he says. “The slashes you took in my stead. May I…?”

Dimitri blinks in surprise, and then licks his lips. “Oh, um… I mean, of course, but they are not really visible with my clothes on the way, so…”

“O-oh, oh no,” Dedue stammers, raising his hands and taking a step back, “I was not asking you to undress, I would never—”

“You wouldn’t?” Dimitri asks, his face falling. His gaze drops to the ground, staring at the distance Dedue put between them like it personally offends him. “Because, I mean, I do not mind undressing for you… Agh, wait, that came out wrong. It came out wrong, but I mean it. I-it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked anyway…”

Dedue stares at his king, incredulous. Dimitri really isn’t looking at him anymore, and he’s angling his head in a way that makes his hair cover most of his face. Dedue can’t help but notice that the tips of his ears are red though, and he feels his own face growing hotter in turn. 

“I may have, but this is more intimate, is it not?”

“I… I guess…” Dimitri makes a small grimace, and then bursts into another awkward laugh. “Goodness, look at us. We are going about this in the wrong way, this is definitely not the order I imagined things to go in.”

“You imagined this?”

“I did. For a long time, I have been waiting for something like this to happen, and yet I did nothing to instigate it.” Dimitri takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. His smile, now completely visible, is striking. “So thank you for taking that brave first step, Dedue. I love you, and I think you love me as well.”

The sheer pride Dedue feels at the confidence behind Dimitri’s words is so overwhelming that the man almost forgets to focus on the content of those words. It takes him a while to process them because, while he could always feel something special between him and Dimitri, he has never allowed himself to dream about having anything but his liege’s friendship. That friendship alone is more than he thinks he deserves, but it is also less than what he feels deep down.

Dimitri is everything to him. He is his whole world, his reason for existing. It wasn’t until Dedue was able to make other friends at the monastery that he truly realized how special Dimitri was to him, special in a way that he has never dared to put into words.

He tries now because Dimitri looks expectant, but his throat feels parched and his mind still struggles to wrap around what he has just been told. 

“That was quite inconsiderate of you, Dimitri,” he manages to say. His voice sounds rough with emotion, and although he wishes he could fix that and look more composed in front of his liege, he also wants to give him the full scope of his emotions, and every bit of sincerity he has to offer. 

“What was?” Dimitri asks, his face falling. “I’m sorry.”

Dedue shakes his head, “No, do not apologize. It’s just… You should not have taken the words from my mouth. I wanted to speak them.”

Dimitri’s smile returns at that, though it is a bit more bashful now. 

“You can still speak them,” he says. “In fact, please do. I wish to hear them.”

“I love you too.” The words are too simple to encompass the full scope of Dedue’s devotion, but they will have to do. He is a man more suited to show his feelings through actions rather than words, so as long as Dimitri lets him, he will spend every day of the rest of his life showing just how deep his affections run. 

“Hearing that makes me happier than I expected,” Dimitri says, his voice breathy. It is terribly endearing. “We really should have started with this.”

“I do not regret how we got here,” he replies, which elicits yet another brief laugh from his liege—no, his love—and Dedue can feel his heart soar. 

“You’re right, I don’t either. Shall we get back to it? I want to kiss you properly.”

“Of course... Dimitri.”

Dedue opens his arms hesitantly, but his love closes the distance in a heartbeat, embracing him like it is the most natural thing to do, and bringing their lips together like they should have never been apart.

**Author's Note:**

> do any of you read tsubasa? dimitri looks so much like fai, the moment I started thinking of king dimitri my mind jumped to [that one illust](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/tsubasa/images/e/ee/Chp127.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20141103024834/) of fai with an ornamental eyepatch and now I can't stop imagining dimitri in them
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/deformedcities/)


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